


His Majesty's Nightlife

by orphan_account



Category: Cal Leandros - Thurman, Temeraire - Novik
Genre: Crossover, Established Relationship, M/M, Meme, unedited, worldbuilding fail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-02
Updated: 2010-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-06 23:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A while back, I was asked for a Cal Leandros Series/Temeraire Xover, and wrote it with I thought an appropriate lack of levity. So here we are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Majesty's Nightlife

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tanyart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/gifts).



> Hey, so this is mostly unbeta'd and not meant to be a Great Work Of Art so much as something fun. This sort of makes sense if you haven't read TCLS, but makes more sense if you have, obviously.

When Temeraire woke for the first in many bleary brushes with consciousness, he asked what time it was, how long it had been, and if everyone was okay.

Will said, "Noon, several hours, and yes, we are all, more less, ship-shape," and handed him some lukewarm chicken noodle soup in a paper bowl. Temeraire fell back asleep before he could drink it.

The second time, no one was there, though it sounded like people were arguing in the next room. Temeraire found the soup cold and distasteful, but drank as much as he could because Will would want him to.

In intervening hours, Temeraire did not loose count of his lucid moments so much as an interest in keeping them. It was around the fifth or eighth time when he woke up and did not want to fall back asleep immediately. Will was not there, but Temeraire found he was not alone, either.

If looks could kill, they would all have one less puck to worry about. As it was, Tharkay's gaze wasn't leveled on anyone in particular, with John Granby, immortal alcoholic extraordinaire, passed out on a cot next to the couch Temeraire had been occupying for-- he didn't know how long. Instead, Tharkay's scowl was aimed fixedly out the apartment's bleary, smudged window. Temeraire knew for a fact that you couldn't see at all through it-- worn and smeared with smog and age-- but he wasn't about to make a point of it, if Tharkay was anywhere near the mood he looked like he was in. The wings, dark and dappled and forever reminiscent of victorious eagles, were out, twitching and agitated. And, for once, his expression did not look at all amused.

Tharkay did not turn his head. He hardly moved. "You've been out for a week. Everyone has survived, if, in some cases, just barely." His voice had a pointed edge to it, and Temeraire could not help but notice the bandages over John's neck and chest, as he lay snoring on the cot, curled around a bottle of whiskey.

"Uh." Temeraire said, "Okay. Did we kill her? And where's Will? And-"

As was the norm for their relationship, Tharkay cut his questions off. "The vampire escaped. I would say, 'we'll get her next time', but I've no interest in elevating Lien to the level of a cartoon villain. Your brother is buying more alcohol for the lummox." A twitch of a wing pointed to John, as if Temeraire couldn't have guessed that for himself.

"I thought you didn't-"

"Approve of his drinking? I don't. But would you prefer him sober? His ribs were last seen imitating pick-up-sticks; I can only blame puckish elasticity for his continued existence, much less the fact that his liver has not yet committed crimes of high mutiny."

Temeraire raised an eyebrow, "Have you been reading Will's books?"

The completely flustered look on Tharkay's face almost made Lien's vendetta against them, the exploding warehouse and the bruises he could feel dotting his chest and the constant uncertainty, the use of the _Tien Feng_\-- it _almost_ made it all worth it.

Tharkay was just lucky John wasn't awake to see it; the puck would have never let him live it down. He huffed, and a few stray feathers fell, mumbling haughtily, "I have not touched your brother's Aubrey/Maturin nonsense." He seemed like he had more to say, but did not think it prudent, when Will appeared in the doorway, a sixpack of beer and gauze under one arm, with bag full of other miscellaneous supplies stuffed in a CVS bag under the other.

"Then I suppose you'll be returning _Desolation Island_ to me post haste. As for you," Will locked the door behind him, shuffling his shoes at the door and forever looking somewhat out of place in their dingy apartment-- fitting, Temeraire thought, since he'd only joined their suicidal dash, only become his 'brother', for Temeraire's sake-- "Welcome to the waking world. I don't suppose you'll be staying this time?"

Temeraire nodded vigorously, "Oh, yes; I'm not tired at all. Are you tired? I can take watch. You should sleep. You look tired."

Will laughed, dropping two unopened beers next to John's pillow for him to find when he next graced them with his consciousness. "I am going to sleep, yes, but you are, too. Iskierka is taking watch, and Tharkay is staying awake, should she decide to run off in the midst of it and set a jewelry store aflame-- though I doubt she will. She was quite worried about you-" As if aware of the dis-inclusion, John's ensuing snore was especially loud, and Will added, "and John."

If this caused Tharkay to shed a few more feathers in jealous agitation, no one mentioned it.

Anyway, Temeraire had more questions, "Iskierka! She's alright, too, then? No, uh, no..." _casualties_?

Tharkay answered this time, "She took enough blows to kill a lesser creature, but you know how Cherufe are. She's been walking since yesterday, and _insisted_ on taking watch today, on pain of immolation."

Will shook his head, "She did not actually threaten to set us all aflame." He put the rest of the beers in the refrigerator, "Just Tharkay."

The count of feathers pooling around Tharkay's ankles was now at eight.

Will, having finished putting everything away in the impeccably tidy fashion of his habit, had walked to glare out the useless window with Tharkay, and made a hushing noise, putting his hand on Tharkay's shoulder. Temeraire just averted his eyes in time, not wanting to see his brother kissing people-- even if they weren't _really_ brothers, they were brothers where it counted, Will had told him, and Temeraire believed it, and all that made Will kissing people _so gross_ and also a little bit weird.

John, still unconscious (though Temeraire was beginning to think he was faking it to escape Tharkay's inexorable lecture) made another loud, snorting-snore to protest his lack of inclusion once more. Tharkay groaned, and Will laughed in his good-natured way, and Temeraire looked up, again, and they weren't kissing so it was okay to.

Tharkay began, "At risk of traumatizing your brother-"

But Will shushed him, and as he was the only person, to Temeraire's knowledge, who was capable of such things, it worked. "I do mean it in earnest, Temeraire; I expect to find you asleep, and resting, soon. Tomorrow, we have to go to Exidium, and I'll need your help restocking; you should be able to walk by then, but you won't much like it if you haven't built up your strength."

Temeraire thought pouting would be very embarrassing, right now, so he only said, "I'll try, but I _said_ I'm not tired..."

"Console yourself with the fact that Roland has requisitioned a new gun for you." Tharkay continued his decided scowl out the window. "It is, she tells me, horribly gaudy enough that Iskierka may be tempted to try her hand at stealing it."

"By which he means it's befitting your style." Will translated, even though Temeraire knew what Tharkay had meant. "Now, will you sleep?"

"I'll _try_." Temeraire promised, "You should sleep, too. You look tired." There were indeed rings under Will's eyes.

"My nursemaid will hardly let me do much else, he barely allowed me to get supplies," beside Will, Tharkay huffed, "As you have sided with him, I see I've no choice."

"Alright. Good. 'Night, bro."

Before he flicked out the light, Will smiled across the room, "Good night, little brother."

In between them, John made another guzzling-snore.

Tharkay's voice had a strange note of fondness in it, when he said, without looking up, "Good night to you too, you idiot."


End file.
